The Mighty Blast

 by

Ian Dowell

The yellow broom is growing,

The proud pines standing tall,

Blue sky high above me

As song-birds sing their call;

But there’s a sadness on the hillside,

That day is dawning fast

When all of our land’s beauty

Will be blown into our past.

The quarry men are coming

To take away our land;

We are only sma folk

But we will make a stand,

Fighting for our future

And honouring our past:

If we can’t stand together

Listen for the mighty blast.

The songbirds will be leaving,

The trees will be cut down,

Taste of broomfires burning,

Dust clouds all around.

They’ll quarry all our hillside

And leave a mighty scar,

All to make a new road somewhere,

For people in their car.

There’s ancient voices calling

From far into our past,

To stop this devastation,

To stop the mighty blast.

Our past is our children’s future,

And their children’s too,

So, let us stand together:

This land belongs to me and you.

The quarry men are coming

To take away our land;

We are only sma folk

But we will make a stand,

Fighting for our future

And honouring our past:

If we don’t stand together

Listen for the mighty blast

One day the sound of children’s laughter

Will be heard high in the woods,

The sound of diesel engines

Will be silenced for good:

No more the foreign invader –

From our land he’s been cast,

Because we all stood together

And stopped the mighty blast.

The quarry men are coming

To take away our land;

We are only sma folk

But we will make a stand,

Fighting for our future

And honouring our past:

If we don’t stand together

Listen for the mighty blast